by Emily L K
“Please, Advisor, sir,” she begged when he stopped at a door, “I didn’t mean to stand in his presence. It’s just that the street was so crowded and there was no room to kneel with my sack of...” She trailed off when the Advisor turned to regard her with a quizzical expression.
“I don’t have the faintest idea of what you babble about,” he informed her stoically. “You’ve been summoned to take part in the intake trials. Obviously someone saw some talent in you, though I cannot imagine what it was.” He opened the door.
“The intake trials?” Cori frowned. Had he mistaken her for someone else? No, he came to the kitchens specifically seeking a servant.
The Advisor pushed her through the doorway before him. The door closed with a sharp click.
The room was dimly lit by a few candles in the chandelier above. As Cori’s eyes adjusted, she could make out about fifteen other children standing nervously at one end of the room. They were all dressed extravagantly. The girls wore gowns, much like those worn by the guests Cori had seen at the party she’d waited on. They were beautiful, but seemed totally out of place in the sparsely furnished room they were in. The boys were in their black dinner jackets and leather boots. It was if they’d all been summoned her from dinner, not to partake in the trials, whatever they were. As one they surveyed her with looks ranging from confusion to disgust. She saw the girl she had bumped into on the street the day before standing among their ranks, eyeing Cori and the Advisor dubiously.
Cori was at once overwhelmed and under-dressed. She averted her eyes from the others in time to see the Karalis enter through a door on the other side of the room. This time she was among the first to drop to the ground in deference, her fingers pressing hard into the soft carpet. The Advisor bid the group to stand, then sorted them into a long line with their backs turned to the Karalis.
“Close your eyes,” the Advisor instructed them. “The Karalis will now test each of you for magical talent.” Cori, standing in the queue's middle, did as she was told, though she couldn’t fathom why she was here. She wanted to say something. She was certain the Advisor had made a mistake, but in the quiet of the room, her lips were frozen shut.
A moment later curiosity forced one of her eyes open a crack to see what was happening. The Karalis stood behind the candidate at the end of the line with one hand on the boy’s shoulders. As she watched, he lifted his hand and moved to the next candidate. The Advisor, following behind the Karalis, made a brief note on a scroll of parchment, his pen scratching. She closed her eyes again.
After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, the Karalis finally stood behind her, but he didn’t place his hand on her shoulder right away. Instead, his voice entered her mind, confirming it was he who had spoken to her the day before and in her dream.
Cori. There was a triumphant note in the way he said her name. It’s nice to finally meet you.
Her hands shook, and she pressed them to her sides. This was all too confusing and frightening. Why had she been summoned here and why was the Karalis of the House of Auksas pleased to meet her? He didn’t seem to expect an answer from her. Instead, he said; Cori, may I test your magic?
Yes, she finally replied, then belatedly added, Your Holiness.
Thank you. His voice radiated barely concealed excitement which only confused her more. She wondered if his face betrayed any emotion or if he appeared indifferent as always. She expected him to touch her shoulder. Instead, he moved on to the boy beside her. She heard the scrape of the Advisor’s pen as he walked past and she wondered vaguely what he would write about her. Would he think she was as unsavoury to the Karalis as the others seemed to think? The Karalis had revelled in her response to him, and yet he hadn’t tested her magic as he’d said. And how had she just spoken to him? Was she telepathic? The whole situation felt like a bizarre dream. The trials ended, and the Karalis left via the same door he’d entered through. The candidates faced the Advisor, and he consulted his list.
While he did, the other youths talked among themselves. It seemed a few of them knew each other, but even those that didn’t joined the conversation with well-practiced social banter.
“-Thought the Karalis would come,” one boy said and Cori watched him from the corner of her eye as she crept back a few steps to stand unnoticed in the shadows near the wall.
“Me too.” The girl Cori had run into in the street smoothed a hand down her navy dress then inspected her painted nails. “That’s the whole point of the trials isn’t it? To be chosen by the Karalis?”
Cori’s eyes darted between them. What were they talking about? The Karalis had just been there. He’d touched each of their shoulders to test their magic. She subtly pinched her own thigh through her robes, sure she had to be sleeping. She wasn’t. The pinch hurt and she rubbed the spot quickly.
The Advisor had paid no attention to their chatter, and when he glanced up from his list, the others fell silent. Anticipation hung heavy in the air, evident in how still and tall the Hiram children stood. Cori straightened her own spine to match them.
“Olivia of Hale,” The Advisor announced and the girl who had just been speaking stepped forward, beaming, “and Cori Cook.” His voice was resigned when he spoke her name. Whispers spread through the room like a fire. Cori, her face burning, stepped forward. Olivia shot her a filthy look. The Advisor paid no heed to any of it, instead gesturing the two of them to follow him.
They left the room and the discarded candidates behind, then entered the next room along the corridor. This room was more brightly lit than the last and teamed with chattering youths. There were about thirty of them. Cori guessed that that these were the other successful candidates.
A line of clerks sat behind a long desk, jotting notes as students approached them. Paper was spread everywhere, and boxes were stacked behind the desk, purple material peeking out of them. More clerks were on their feet, walking among waiting students, handing out letters. Another man stood at the closest end of the table, calling out names. The Advisor handed a slip of paper to him, which the man took with a small bow.
“Tom will look after you,” The Advisor nodded to the man. “Ensure you attend the intake ceremony tonight,” he added, looking directly at Cori. Then he was gone. Cori glanced at Olivia, wondering if she should try to talk to her. Maybe she could mention the Karalis to understand why the other candidates had pretended he wasn’t at their trials, but Olivia’s attention was on the other children.
“Rosie!” she called out suddenly, hiking up her skirts and running to her friend. Cori found herself standing alone. Slowly, she moved until she had her back against the wall, unnoticed by anyone in the room. When her name was finally called, she jerked forward to the summoning clerk. The man’s brow knitted and he glanced past her to the students.
“My name is Cori Cook,” she said finally. The clerk’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes darted down to her servant robes then back up to her short hair. He cleared his throat and looked down at his list.
“Lessons,” he said, trying to find his place on the page. “I am to sign you up to your lessons. Now, all first-year students need to do numbers and letters... Do you know numbers and letters?” His voice died in his throat.
“I know my numbers,” Cori was as ashamed as the clerk sounded. She knew her numbers well from her years of weighing and counting in the kitchen. She didn’t, however, elaborate on her lack of writing skills. The clerk made a mark on his parchment.
“Other lessons you must take are decorum, music and dancing.” He stopped and reached into a box of purple cloth by his chair and held up what turned out to be a set of robes. “These are your student robes. You will have to wear them to all lessons during the school year.”
He thrust the robes at her. Cori hesitated, then realised he had nothing else to say. Silently, she accepted the proffered clothing and slipped away.
“There she is!” Olivia’s voice rang out across the room. Cori hesitated then turned to face the other girl, her new scho
ol robes clutched to her chest. Olivia stood, hands on hips, an unfriendly grin on her pretty face. Behind her was her friend Rosie and a handful of others. More moved in to watch the confrontation.
“What are you doing here, Servant?” Olivia sneered. The children around her snickered. Cori glanced at Tom but the man stared resolutely at his list. “Base-born filth like you doesn’t belong here,” Olivia continued.
Heat crept up Cori's face as she turned towards the door, hoping to escape quietly.
“That’s right, run back to where you came from. What a joke!” The raucous laughter that followed Olivia’s words carried Cori out the door. She wondered miserably how this fate had been lumped on her.
She passed the Advisor in the hallway as he led the next group of children into the trial room and she bowed from the waist. She once more wanted to say something to him, ask why she’d been pulled from the kitchens to do this, but he ignored her completely and the words once more died on her lips.
The last of the candidates filed into the room and the door closed behind them. Alone in the corridor, Cori burst into tears.
Chapter Four
Cori took the long route back to the kitchens. She didn’t want her mother to see that she’d been crying. It was embarrassing enough to be subject to such a cruel punishment. She didn’t want her family’s pity on top of that. While she walked, she decided that she wouldn’t tell anyone about the intake. It was some sort of sick joke of the House and she didn’t want to be party to it. She would tell her mother that the Advisor had simply reprimanded her for standing in the presence of the Karalis.
And the Karalis. Well, she didn’t even know what to think of his motives. Why could she remember his presence in that room but no one else could? She paused outside the kitchen door, took a deep breath and glanced towards the ceiling, blinking back the last of her tears. The Karalis had been genuinely excited by her attendance of the trials. Had he been the one to have the Advisor summon her? She rubbed her hands together, a futile attempt at dispelling her nerves. She would think about the Karalis later. First, she had to speak to her mother. She pushed the door open, and her lie died on her lips.
A throng of servants crowded in the middle of the kitchen, all work forgotten as they listened to a house messenger reading aloud from a letter, his reading quickened with excitement. His audience buzzed with much the same fervour. Bel stood beside him, studying the letter over his shoulder. Although he read from it, Cori knew the letter had been addressed to her mother.
“... Pleased to confirm Cori Cook’s successful intake trials and subsequent acceptance into the School of Auksas. Cori’s acceptance will be officially recognised tonight at the annual intake ceremony. Cori may bring both her parents to celebrate with her. It is customary to -”
“Cori!” Bel spotted her daughter by the door. The words of the messenger were drowned out as the crowd surged to Cori. Hands reached out to her, patting her arm, squeezing her shoulder. Words rolled around her and washed over her like crashing waves. They congratulated her, and they congratulated each other. She thought she would suffocate under their avidity. Her hands pressed to her side, resisting the urge to physically shove them away. Then her mother was there, sweeping her into a tight embrace.
“Oh Cori!” Bel spoke with sweet reassurance in Cori’s ear. Cori went to lay her head on her mother’s shoulder but Bel pulled back, holding her at arm’s length. “Cori what is it? Why are you crying?”
The tears she‘d promised to restrain now slipped down her cheeks, leaving hot, shameful tracks. She focused on her mother, whose face glowed with pride, at the servants who were her family, still congratulating one another on having one of their own accepted into such a prestigious position. Cori opened her mouth to tell them all the truth. That she didn’t belong in the school, that it was all a big mistake. Her eyes met her mother’s and once again words failed her. She licked her lips.
“I have nothing to wear,” she finally said, her voice wavering. Her mother smiled in relief.
“My Annie has a pretty frock that she’s outgrown. It might fit you,” Dlores announced. Others around her nodded, and Annie herself offered to run and fetch the dress.
“What about her hair? And her makeup?” Someone else piped up. “Those Hiram children always look like dolls!”
“I’ll run to the maids’ quarters and see if one of them can pilfer something from the guestrooms.”
“We have to organise an admission fee. If we all donate some coins, then we should be able to scrape together something respectable.”
And that was it. Cori watched as the servants dispersed to prepare for the ceremony. Even her mother was swept away in the excitement. Cori was left standing alone at the door of the kitchen, her arms wrapped over her middle. She felt sick. She didn’t want to attend the ceremony, or go to their school. She wasn’t Hiram, she was human. But her friends and family were excited for her, excited that a servant could rise through the ranks if their talent permitted.
Well, she‘d set the wheels in motion and there was nothing she could do except wait to see what happened. She scanned the kitchen, watching as servants hurried back and forth, all normal duties forgotten. All except one.
Saasha stood at her workbench, a half decorated cake before her. Cori knew Saasha had been practicing her embellishments for some time, had often been on the receiving end of a snappish retort if she dared interrupt. This cake would be her first to be served publically, and Cori knew the instant she saw her sister’s expression she’d stolen Saasha’s limelight. Bel and Dlores would have been supervising before the messenger’s arrival with the letter. And now they were racing about the kitchen, preparing for Cori to go to a ceremony. Cori met her sister’s eye, pleading with her to understand, but Saasha, hands pressed to the workbench either side of her cake, merely glowered at her. Cori bowed her head and let her misery consume her.
THE FROCK THEY PUT her in was pretty enough, though more suited for a stroll through the gardens than an evening event. It was a cobalt dress - slightly faded with age - that fell to her ankles. Her mother had added padding to the bust as it was too large for Cori’s still girlish breasts. Someone found her a pair of blue silk slippers, though the shade was lighter than that of her dress.
Handmaids, having heard of her acceptance, came to the kitchen, arms loaded with colourful powders and a strange round iron that they heated, then used to turn her straight hair into little ringlets that bounced around her ears. The heat so close to her face was an uncomfortable reminder of her dream dragons. They painted her face, exclaiming that the black they drew on her eyelids made the blue of her eyes pop.
Finally, when the preparations concluded, Dlores asked the servants to gather around. The feel in the air was still heady and most grinned exuberantly. All except Cori, whose smile was more of a grimace, and Saasha who stood apart from the rest, arms crossed over her chest as she watched her fellow servants with narrowed eyes. Dlores hushed them all to silence, then - with much pomp and ceremony - presented Cori with a carved wooden chest. Cori ran her hand over the flower carvings on the top then opened the lid to find the chest full with silver coins and one or two gold ones. She swallowed back a lump of embarrassment.
“This is all our spare coin,” Dlores explained proudly when Cori closed the lid.
“I can’t take it,” Cori whispered. “You can’t give me all your coin for the sake of this school.” She tried to hand the box back to Dlores but the old cook refused it. Cori didn’t know what to do. Her eyes flicked from the head cook, to Tarp and to her mother. How could they not understand that she wasn’t even going to last a day at this school? It was a waste of their hard earned money.
“This is not just about you, Cori,” Tarp insisted, he was leaning on a cane this evening, as he often did after a long shift of being a straight-backed server. “You represent a change in the way things are. You give us the opportunity to be one of them. If we do this well, if we present ourselves on a respectable fron
t, then one day we may well be able to present all our children at the intake trials.”
She knew she should feel proud of her responsibility, but the weight on her shoulders only grew.
NOBODY WAS QUITE STILL. Although they stood in a line, feet shuffled on the stone floor, and someone coughed. A few whispered conversations broke out among friends and every now and then a clerk walked down the line, seeking someone or other to speak to them.
They were gathered in the semi-darkness of the wide corridor outside the throne room, waiting to be called upon to present their admission fees to the Karalis. The last time Cori had been here, she’d been nervously waiting to serve the Hiram guests within. She also remembered how anticipation had stirred her stomach, and her desire to attend a party above her rank and lay eyes on the Karalis. Now she experienced neither of those things, rather she felt sick enough to vomit.
Cori stood at the back of the line of accepted students and her mother waited within, among the other parents.
She’d been allowed to invite both parents, but she didn’t know her father. It wasn’t the way of humans to be monogamous unless they wished to, instead they chose bed partners purely for enjoyment and reproduction. Her mother had told her once that her father was a blonde-haired travelling bard who stayed at the House for a time. Bel loved the man’s music and his proclivity for a late night glass of Dodici red, but that was all the information she passed on to her daughter. Cori could only guess that he had a touch of Hiram blood and that was where she obtained the peculiar talent that had gotten her into this situation. She wished Saasha had come as a second guest but since Tarp’s speech, there’d been no sign of her sister.
Cori studied the box in her hands. What had been a lifetime of wealth in the kitchens now seemed a laughable amount compared to the gifts most other children carried. Some even had chests so large they had ornate hand carts to pull them in. She noted some students had smaller, more reserved coffers. As if, like her, their parents had had to scrape the bottom of the kitchen purse to pay their admission. But even these were more impressive than hers, most having at least a few gemstones embedded on their lids.
